"No man is a failure who is enjoying life." -William Feather
Countries Travelled

Cannon Ball Run

Day 1 - I've moved on again. After months of of the heaviest partying I've forced my body to endure, with the best of friends that I'd met, I get on a plane to Miami. Though stumbled might be a better adjective as I'd managed 4 hours sleep in 48 hours. Following a couple of tortuous flights, I had the pleasure of US customs and their sniffer dogs. I think they may have been slightly suspicious as Roatan is one of the drug gates from Columbia to the States. My vacant expression through lack of sleep, a serious case of flu, sweating due to fever, coughing, sniffing and eyes streaming did not seem to help the situation. On the fourth walkabout with Lassie, I growled and he backed down. Two hours later I escape the baskerville hounds, and into the fresh air of Miami with the anticipation of first class hotels, room service and a bath. Foiled again, my cheap hotel had neither so I had to settle for a concrete pizza and the comedy channel. in fact it was a motel, which I thought was the same as a hotel... so many things to learn in this big wide world.

Day 2- Retail therapy downtown Miami. Where do I keep going wrong? These people speak less English than in Honduras. I return with toothpaste and vitamin E after five hours. Dinner is reduced to a pot noodle and cough sweets.

Day 3 - I hire a Dodge Viper (aka Ford Focus in brilliant blue) to drive up to Tampa to meet my friend from England. I was going to do Easy Rider, but I don't have the leather, or the luggage space. So I settled for the town shopper version of Cannon Ball Run. For those of you familiar with my compass navigation skills, you will understand my predicament with the American naming of roads, NSEW!!! It takes me over an hour to escape Miami airport and it's immediate vicinity. I'm still unsure whether they have hundreds of MacDonalds, or just the same ones viewed ten times over. Three hundred miles and I'm confronted by a bridge that must have been made by a roller coaster designer. I shut my eyes at the summit, before remembering that the car has cruise control not automatic pilot. A few more detours and I arrive at my slightly more expensive hotel. A lesson well learned has given me a bath and a sumptuous steak. In the bar a few discussions with business travelers' over the current consumer electronics market has returned me to consultant dialogue. It's only then that I remember I no longer earn a salary and should be staying in hostels. Lady luck shines once more with the announcement of ladies night - free cocktails all night. It would be rude of me to refuse, now wouldn't it?

Day 4 - awakening with a hangover, I stager to meet my friend. Having given assurances I would meet her at the airport I arrive in plenty of time. However it would seem that being five months pregnant has robed her of her few remaining brain cells. Lingering until the final passenger departed, arranging for ten pagers across the airport, she has disappeared. An inquisitive call to the hotel where we should be staying welcomes me with the 'checked in' status. My Dodge Viper screams away from the airport for the short half hour journey. Following a detour along Millionaires row that takes me another hour or so I arrive at the final destination.

Reunited after a long eight months, it's lucky that there are enough hours in the day to continue female gossip well into the night. Well you would think that would be the case. It transpires that the two of us are asleep by nine thirty most nights, exhausted by not doing much apart from lying by the pool. I think the most strenuous was a day of further retail therapy that proved more successful than my last attempt. I now have a digital camera that I shall probably drop or lose somewhere along the line.